


What's so Funny?

by Pipecleaner



Category: Captain Underpants Series - Dav Pilkey
Genre: Haven't really fully decided about the relationships yet so that'll change as this goes on, also this follows movie canon, bring on the angst !!, he's going downhill and I WONDER WHY...., r.i.p harold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pipecleaner/pseuds/Pipecleaner
Summary: It's been a week since the events of what Professor P. did to all the kids at Jerome Horwitz Elementary, and things were finally starting to wind down after it was all solved by the newly brought-to-life Captain Underpants.Though the underwear-clad super hero was definitely a mess on his own, something far more troublesome is starting to happen with Harold.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory edgy sad AU... hell yeah.  
> Anyways thanks @cinnalando for coming up with a title for me ily

After all was said and done, George and Harold- along with the rest of the student body- were required to show up to class just a day after the hectic events of Professor Poopypants' perilous plot to rid these children of laughter. It figures that the man who had sacrificed his life to fight off said mad scientist would then turn around (after getting splashed with water of course) and demand that each student be at the school on time the following day, despite the obvious trauma they all went through.  Principle Krupp never went easy on the kids at Jerome Horwitz, and this statement was unequivocally true for George and Harold. 

It was apparent that Krupp showed no mercy that following week, no doubt blaming the events of the carnival and his strange blackouts on the two troublemakers. Their separation was still in affect- just as Krupp wished. Truly no amount of snapping their fingers could get them out of this unfortunate but inevitable severance. 

They managed to cheer themselves up a bit more as they had done back in the tree house, making sure to list off all the times that they could hang out apart from school, as there was lunch, recess, the unexpected encounter in the school hallways, and of course- all the time in the world that came after the end of their long and lonely hours at Jerome Horwitz. 

As each school day came around to a close, George waited for his best friend's arrival from Miss Ribble's class by their designated spot; the closed-but-now-kinda-in-use arts classroom. 

They skipped the usual banter of asking how each other's brutal and isolated days were, going right on to ask what kind of comic-related ideas were brewed up as they sat in class daydreaming.  

And that's exactly how their first school week had gone since being separated. 

\----------------------

George tapped the end of his green skateboard against the linoleum floor as he absentmindedly waved the papers in his other hand, fanning himself with whatever facts he'd written down for their newest TreehouseComix™ adventure. He knew Miss Ribble kept her class way longer than necessary; leaving George to wait an extra three minutes for his best friend as always. Despite feeling his skin crawl from having to spend even an extra second inside Jerome Horwitz, he'd wait hours if he had to for Harold. 

Finally, George had seen the door to her classroom open up and in an instant, a bunch of eager fourth graders filed out, some even shoving other classmates aside as they were far too stoked to be done with school for the evening. The boy with the flat top and tie perked up as he saw the familiar blonde curly tufts of his friend's hair, letting a naturally enthusiastic smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He waited for a few more of the kids to clear out before approaching. 

"Boring as always?" George inquired with simply as his greeting, idly shuffling around a few of the papers in his hands, a sly smile still playing on his lips. 

"Boring as always." Harold confirmed, perhaps just as matter-of-factly as the posed question, "But now onto the important stuff; what have you got for me?" 

The two boys fell instep as they walked down the hallway towards the blond's locker, all the while George presenting his lined papers filled from margin to bottom line with various story plot points and the like. Next to certain lines were crude stick figure drawings, their only purpose being to thumbnail the first draft for Harold's final artwork. 

"I was thinking like, this guy comes flyin' in, right? And this other dude here, he's winding up to punch him straight in the face." George gave a little shrug at the end, looking towards Harold for a bit of validation on his inept doodles as he explained the concept behind one of them. Harold gave a little chuckle in response, nodding quickly. 

"Yeah, yeah I can see it yea!" Despite being a near unintelligible drawing of two stick figures, Harold still knew exactly what George wanted him to draw for this panel. They were always just kind of in sync like that.

"Well I'm liking what I'm hearing so far, Mr. Beard." Harold confirmed, stepping over to his locker as he pulled his bag and skateboard from inside of it. "And I can't wait to draw them." 

"Speaking of drawing, you didn't show up empty handed, right?" 

"Empty handed? What do you think I was doing in class? Paying attention?" Harold scoffed as he flipped through the blue notebook in his hand, setting his skateboard down on the linoleum below their feet as he did so. 

"Fresh new pictures- hot off the press." He presented said notebook forward then, practically every inch of the lined paper being filled with doodles here and there, some even sporting some magnificent splashes of color from the wonderful blotchy work of crayons. 

"Oh, this guys new!" George pointed out, taking the notebook from the other's hands as he brought it closer to him for a more thorough inspection, "What's he do?"

"You tell me." Harold responded with a calm grin, giving a little shrug as he closed his locker and slung his book bag over his shoulder. The two began walking again. 

"Well, you see those fangs? And those legs? Just add like, two more of those and this guy could be a huge spider!" It'd be a new original character for them, and Harold nodded enthusiastically in compliance. 

"Man, that's gonna be the first thing I draw when I get back to the tree house." 

They stepped outside of the elementary school and Harold rose his hand to shield his gaze from the sun while George tucked the other's blue notebook into his own book-bag before setting his skateboard onto the cement. 

"How's week number two treating you? It sucks that you were sick all weekend." George questioned with, starting up a round of small talk as the two boys made their way down the sidewalk. As if almost on cue, Harold rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and cringed, feeling a massive headache beginning to brew. 

George frowned at that, coasting a bit more slowly as they made their way down a particularly sharper incline on the street. 

"I think some medicine is still in the tree hou-"

"There's no way I'm drinking that again. Cherry medicine is probably the worst thing I've ever had to swallow!" Harold interrupted with, crossing his arms over his chest, though he began to wobble a bit unbalanced on his skateboard and he dropped them to his sides again. 

"Well, you got me there... but we can't have you being sick again. We've got a weekly comic quota to meet and we need to get a head start on this new issue!" As demanding as George's sentence seemed, it was still spoken calmly and with a hint of reassurance. Harold only gave a shrug in response though, and the rest of their short journey home was ridden in silence. 

When the two boys had finally reached their tree house, they both climbed in and did their regular tasks to get the place all tidy and functioning so that they could both get to work. George immediately started by taking a red pen to the sheet of plot points he'd written down that day, circling the good planned-out ideas and crossing out some of the more useless others. 

And Harold... 

Well, even with the new information his friend had given him regarding the spider guy, Harold still found himself putting a big red X through whatever he'd doodled. It just didn't seem to be coming out the way he wanted them to, and the blond blamed those failed attempts on his worsening headache. 

Finally, Harold sat back all together, the pencil leaving his grasp as he tossed it a foot away in annoyance. George looked over to his best friend immediately as he heard those frustrated groans and the clink of the pencil on wood, tilting his head down at the white printer paper now covered in big red X's. His gaze switched from Harold's upset expression and back down to said paper a few more times before he finally shifted in his spot and leaned over to swipe up the drawings. 

"Whats wrong with this one?" George turned the paper around to the other's view, pointing to one that had a few more red marks of disappointment on it than necessary. "This one's really good, man." 

Despite his friend's encouraging and reassuring words, Harold still found himself pouting with his arms crossed. George figured it was natural for an artist to have off days like this- hell, he himself had days where he couldn't write a basic story plot even if his life depended on it-  but it was normally pretty easy to get the blond out of that unfortunate creative slump. George, similar to Harold, just chalked up his inability to draw at the moment as a side effect of his sickness and headache. 

George waited a moment or two longer for Harold to respond, but not even so much as a glance of acknowledgment came from the upset other. 

George finally sighed, putting down his own work before standing to his feet. 

"Listen, if you're still feeling bad, you should go take a nap or something. It's only Monday. We still have the whole week to make this comic." 

Harold looked up then as the other spoke, and George could practically make out the worry in his eyes. They'd only been in the tree house for a little over five minutes, and as much as Harold wanted to work, he just found himself giving up so easily today. 

Once again, he blamed it on his ill health. And maybe a bad case of artist's block. 

"Or at least get something to eat... like, maybe go see what your mom's making for dinner?" George tacked on, clearing a small path towards the exit where Harold usually jumped out from. "You should be fine after that! Make sure to holler at me when you're ready to come out again, yeah?" 

George stood patiently at the exit then, a forced smile on his face as he was posed quietly with his hands on his hips. He was a bit upset about the other's noncompliance, but it's not like he was going to say that out loud to him and risk his mood growing even more sour. 

The hurt and worry was even more apparent in the blond's gaze now as he slowly rose to his feet, though as he passed through the treehouse opening towards his house, he rose his hand to give the other a tiny high five. It was about all he could manage.

"Thanks, George." He mumbled, so quietly that George almost didn't catch it. 

"Don't worry about it". 

George didn't take his eyes off the other until he saw the backdoor close, and he finally let out the defeated sigh that he hadn't realized he'd been holding once Harold was out of sight. He gathered up some of their papers and made his way down the treehouse ladder, finding no point in staying in there alone without his best friend's presence. 

He went on inside, spending the rest of the evening loitering around the home phone and front door, as if magically Harold was going to call for him like he'd asked him to, a bright smile fixed on his face and pencil in hand ready to get back to work. George would say something like "See? I told you you were fine!" and they'd resume progress on their next comic like nothing had even interrupted them in the first place. 

Unfortunately, George never got the chance to say 'I told you so' that night, and even more defeated as he had been earlier, he settled into bed for the night, taking a quick second to peek out his window and into the other's as curiosity got the best of him. 

The light was off, and George knew he was sleeping.  

He hoped tomorrow would go better. 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit long, and it was going to be longer but I decided to cut that chunk out and add it to chapter 3.  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far!!

George could only hope..... that today would go better! 

He rose out of bed instantly as his mother called to him, going about his morning routine at double the speed. Once out of the bathroom, he quickly threw on his usual clothes, headed downstairs for a bowl of his favorite cereal, and ate it so fast that his mother expressed her concern. George only waved her off simply, slinging his book-bag over his shoulder and slipping out the front door with an extra five minutes that he normally didn't have the pleasure of wasting. 

His eyes immediately darted to the other's house once outside, coming to find the sidewalk in front of it unfortunately Harold-less. George frowned before making his way over there, knocking on the door three times with his fist before waiting a bit impatiently for a response. 

The door creaked open slowly, almost cautiously, though behind it wasn't exactly the person that George wanted to see. 

"Oh, Heidi! Is Harold up? Is he good?" 

She tilted her head, opening the door an inch wider. 

"What do you mean 'is he good?' He's... fine? He slept all day and all night, snoring so loudly that I barely got an hours worth!"

George only smiled uneasily at this, trying to stand up on his tippy-toes a bit to peer inside the Hutchins' household, perhaps to catch a glance at Harold. 

"So... He's... coming to school today though, right?" George questioned, the tone in his voice wavering with uncertainty just a tad. He honestly couldn't imagine showing up to school without his best friend there. The ride up would longer than normal, all his classes would be twice as dreadful, and he felt like not having Harold with him during lunch would cause his food to spoil! And don't even get him started on recess...! 

"Yeah, I'm going to school today........ unfortunately..." 

Harold's appearance could not have been more perfect; George instantly smiled wide, showing off such pristine white teeth that it was almost shocking for a kid who spent most of his free time eating tooth-decaying sweets.

Harold pushed passed his little sister, paying her little mind as she loudly slammed the door on him once he'd joined his friend outside. 

It seemed like it'd been ages since George had last seen his best friend, despite it being less than 24 hours ago that they were sitting up in the tree house together. Nevertheless though, George still gave him a little pat on the back and a genuine smile, and the two started off for school on their skateboards. 

...And cue the morning banter between them. 

"You were asleep for like four whole days!" 

Harold blew out an amused laugh at this, skating around a small deep crack in the sidewalk. 

"Yeah, it felt good, too." 

George simply rolled his eyes, but he knew he couldn't be mad at him. Harold was still a little sick, after all.

He made sure to say his next sentence with a grin. 

"Well, don't think you're off the hook for that. You've got some weight to pull around here, Mr. Hutchins, so you best use that class time wisely to hammer out some pages. We'll trade them during lunch." 

"Whatever you say, boss."

\-------------

Four hours had gone by since they arrived at school, and it seemed that every kids' Hail Mary pass was upon the two boys: the 35 glorious minutes that were lunch and recess.

George pushed his way through the lunch room doors, eyes immediately scanning the cafeteria for the familiar messy hair of Harold. Within just a few seconds of his search, he'd found exactly who he was looking for and he ran on over. 

The smile that Harold gave his friend as he saw him approach could only be described as forced. 

"Hey Harold!" George started up with cheerily, sliding into the seat right in front of his friend, "Got anything for me?" 

Harold scanned the empty table- apart from their two lunch boxes and George's notebook- as if, magically, the table was going to be covered in fresh comic pages. 

"...No..." Harold peeped out, daring to take a glance up at his friend. 

Likewise, George couldn't take his eyes off the other, raising a brow in suspicion. 

"No? What do you mean?" 

"It's... not here, I mean." 

George sat back a bit further, lifting up his lunchbox and taking a peek under the cafeteria table, his voice a bit muffled from his head beneath it as he replied "Not here? Where's it at?" He continued his search. 

Truthfully, it wasn't anywhere, because Harold didn't do as George asked him to. Harold honestly couldn't remember what he'd done in class that morning, but he knew drawing wasn't one of them. He cleared his throat, hands folding themselves in his lap as he spoke uneasily. 

"Miss Ribble... she took my notebook. It got confiscated. That's why it's not here."

Harold was _lying_. And he was lying to his best friend. It nagged at him as soon as the words left his mouth; he knew he shouldn't be lying about this.

Harold could actually see the other process his sentence; George's confusion melted into one of concentration, and finally his eyebrows furrowed together and he sat up straight. He looked angry.

"You know what? She's been getting on my nerves! First she keeps you way too long and _now_ she takes away your drawings? How longs it been since we pranked her?" George fumed, his hands balling into fists, brown eyes narrowed and staring directly into Harold's uncertain ones.

Well, half of his sentence was true. Harold didn't mind getting back at his teacher for all the constant nagging, keeping him after class, and the just in general boring curriculum.... but Harold new the main reason why his friend was so angry and demanded she be disciplined was because of the non-existent notebook full of doodles... Because of his lie, he felt like her punishment wasn't justified.

Wait a second... of course it was! Harold would never pass up an opportunity to prank somebody, and this somebody was a teacher, too!

"...You know what, yeah! I think it's about time we got her again. Got anything in mind?" Harold felt his worry wash away, though there was still a definite and distinguishable _something_ in his mind telling him to refrain. He was pulled from that inner voice as George clapped his hands, rubbing them together maliciously afterward.

"Something pretty simple. We have to start now, though. Can you sneak into the cafeteria and grab some red food coloring?" George had already begun packing up all of his stuff, despite not even taking one bite of his sandwich. It seemed revenge overruled any other emotion in him then.

"Yeah. Anything else?" Harold seemed relatively compliant on the outside, but the feeling that was settling in the pit of his stomach told another story.

"No, I'll handle the rest. Meet me outside the teacher's lounge when you get it."

They parted ways then with a simple nod, George managing to sneak out of the busy cafeteria undetected as Harold strolled right up to the lunch ladies' counter.

\----------

George paced around uneasily; he did his 50% of the prank, managing to clear the teacher's lounge of any faculty, and would normally feel pretty confident in his friend's abilities to follow through with the rest, but something just... wasn't right. There was still the possibility that his friend was still sick and therefore it was hindering his ability to act as he normally did, but even when the poor kid contracted pneumonia last winter, he still pushed through to be his goofy self. Harold was only sick with the common cold now... there was no reason he should be acting the way he was.

Distant footsteps pulled George from his train of thought, and he felt relief wash over him at who'd just shown up. It was Harold, a bottle of red food coloring in his hand, strolling right towards him. Was he frowning?

"Oh, great! You got it!"

Harold immediately changed his mood as if it were a light switch, the frown instantly turning into a wide smile. He picked up the pace as he jogged over to his friend.

"Yeah, I just told Edith I needed it for a science project and she handed it right over." He presented the bottle and George took it, his other hand placing itself on the doorknob.

"Easy enough." He felt all his uncertainty about Harold wash away then, making a mental note to never doubt him in the future.

The complete opposite was happening with Harold, however. He still had no idea what kind of prank George had in mind, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his striped shirt as the two boys pushed into the empty teacher's lounge. He was starting to doubt George's motives.

"I told them that they were serving free slices of pie in the Cafeteria, so I don't know how much time we have... it shouldn't take long, though... There's Ribble's coffee cup."

Ah. Harold could pretty much figure out just what kind of prank George wanted to play now. He was going to put red food coloring in her coffee, she was going to drink it, and then it was going to stain her teeth bright red. And food coloring was hard to get rid of! A pretty easy, textbook prank, but then again just perfect when the boys were dealing with such a short notice and prep time.

George popped the lid off, sliding the cup closer to himself as Harold watched. Normally, the two boys would be smiling snickering about such a prank and what the aftermath was going to look like, but once again, Harold grimaced with uncertainty.

He couldn't stop his hand as it shot out and caught George's wrist.

"...What? What's wrong?"

Harold was like a deer caught in headlights at George's question; eyes wide, pose rigid and mouth open slightly. He honestly didn't know why he grabbed his friend's wrist like that; it was almost as if it was an instinctive reaction.

He had to say something, and quick! George was growing more and more concerned by the second, it being visually apparent by the shocked expression he wore.

"A-are we sure this is her cup...?" It was about all he could come up with, but thankfully it seemed to just barely pass. George lowered the bottle, his eyes scanning the rest of the table at the half dozen cups scattered onto of it.

"Well... I'm pretty sure..." He lifted the cup upwards, examining the bland color of it, as if something about it would be a dead giveaway about its owner. He glanced at the very bottom of it.

"Oh! Here! It says 'This is definitely Miss Ribble's cup, nobody else, under any circumstances do not touch!'"

Harold gulped.

"...Hah, it really says all that?" The blond sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a nervous smile.

"Yeah, it does. Can I pour this in, now?" It was a rhetorical question; George placed the cup back on the table and turned the food coloring bottle upside down once again, positioning it directly above the coffee. Harold wished he knew just exactly why he was feeling such remorse, but he felt the feeling grow twofold as he watched a few red drops fall right into the liquid. George put the lid back on the bottle, swishing the cup around in his hands before placing it back on the table like it hadn't been tampered with whatsoever.

This... this was **wrong**.

Guilt- especially one for teachers!- was something Harold was never used to, but it was hard to ignore that feeling when it was practically eating him whole. Not once, ever, since the two of them started playing pranks in kindergarten had the blond felt bad about what they were doing.

Harold just desperately wanted to know why he now felt different.

Without saying a word, Harold approached the table and swiped the cup from on top of it, gaze pointed down into the dark liquid. The food coloring in there was virtually undetectable; there was an 100% chance of this prank working.

Harold walked over to the sink with the glass still in his hands.

Much to the horror of his best friend as he watched his actions carefully, the blond dumped the full contents of the mug down the drain, his back to the other so he didn't catch the look of his pure, unadulterated shock.

George's feet couldn't carry him fast enough; by the time he was next to Harold and shoving him out of the way, their entire prank- quite literally!- was down the drain.

"What? What was that? What was that for? Harold!" George choked out, still in shock as he reached for the cup and yanked it up to his face. The only remnants of their prank was the slightly stained pink porcelain of the inside of the mug.

Harold now wore an equally horrified expression; no, that wasn't him that did that. He'd never sabotage one of their pranks, especially when it was going to played on somebody who so well deserved it! He scrambled for an excuse, hands coming up to clutch at his own face in panic.

"Was that prank not good enough or something? Why'd you dump it out!?" George stood there, cup in hand, that same look of shock still present on his face. He was desperately searching for some explanation, and he only gave the other a quick moment before speaking up again.

"Come on man, talk, what was that?"

Harold was speechless; much like the action where he'd grabbed the other's wrist, him proceeding to dump it all out in the sink was almost instinctive but no where near a conscious decision on his part. So why did he ruin this prank?

"I-I don't know! Can we just... can we just go back to the cafeteria? There's still five minutes left and--"

"She deserved it, right? _You said so yourself!_ She stole your drawings, and we need to teach her what happens when she messes with you!"

Oh. Right. The drawings. The whole reason why they were now standing there in the teacher's lounge where they could be caught red-handed any minute. The whole reason why they were now arguing. It was because Harold **lied** to his best friend.

He went pale, hands sinking down to his chest as he nervously gripped at the striped fabric. George didn't dare let his gaze leave the other, and his eyes were only growing more narrowed by the second. 

Harold cleared his throat before he finally spoke up. 

"There was never any draw-"

Without warning, the lounge door flew open, effectually cutting off the fourth grader's sentence. He didn't know if he was thankful or horrified to see the angry faces of so many teachers just then. 

The cup flew from George's grasp when the door had suddenly been swung open, and both boys cringed as the sound of shattering glass filled the small room. 

The phrase that every single faculty member seemed to yell in unison then was one that was ingrained deep in their heads:

"GO TO THE PRINCIPLE'S OFFICE, NOW!"


End file.
